This momming thing sucks donkey butt sometimes. My first son is now fourteen. He is also severely ADHD. Right now WE are all battling his ADHD, immaturity, hyperactivity, hormones/puberty and anything else you care to throw in that toilet of teenagerdum(b). (Yes, I’ve decided Webster’s words aren’t accurate enough to convey my thoughts so I’m making them up as needed.)
So while dangling at the end of my torn and tattered vintage rope, by a toenail, my husband reminded me that today was bike day and I needed to go. Wonderful husband, great ideas.
I just got back to training yesterday after a bout of laryngitis followed by a head cold and then a stomach bug all in the ten days leading up to what was to be my first triathlon. E-P-I-C fail. I’d like to think I could Mom-Up take the hit and do the race anyway but I tried to be a responsible grown up instead. My body doesn’t heal as fast as it used to and I didn’t want to be out longer than needed.
I ran a mile yesterday and today I was planning to get back in it with a 5-6 mile ride. Well, that turned into a ten mile ride and a peaceful overlook so all of us could survive another day in teenage world.
“Where am I headed and why am I in a hand basket?”,
Vintage Mom South